


Make a Wish

by PunkPinkPower



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Cake, Cupcakes, First Kiss, Fluff, Food Fight, I'm actually sorry it didn't, M/M, Operation Positivity, Sterek is Eternal, This could easily have turned porny, feel free to remix it as porn instead of cute at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkPinkPower/pseuds/PunkPinkPower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s birth date is on his police report.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Derek’s birthday is pulled from the picture of his license in the show, which shows November 7th. Pretend this happens sometime in the Season 3 future.   
> Written to support Operation Positivity.

When Stiles first see’s the police report, he focuses on the picture of Derek with the flashing eyes and not much else. 

He keeps a copy of the report on his tablet, along with all the other things he’s collected about werewolf activity in Beacon Hills, like the Bestiary, the reports on the animal attacks, the autopsy reports of people who have died. When he’s bored, he tends to just skim the contents of his tablet, flicking through file after file in random order, trying to see if it sparks something or helps him put things together in a new way. 

It’s worked once or twice, to be honest, but sometimes he thinks he has most of this information memorized. Until he gets to Derek’s police report again, and he smirks fondly at that glared out photo, and the barely visible smug look on Derek’s ridiculous face. But this time he focuses in on the date of birth, reads it off in his mind, sits up from his slumped position slightly. 

November 7th? Really? Stiles wonders why he didn’t already know that, why Derek’s looming birthday was a piece of information he didn’t have. Then of course he remembers that their lives are insane and they hardly have time for birthday’s and ridiculous shenanigans and realizes that no one probably knows when Derek’s birthday is. 

Hell, maybe Derek doesn’t remember it’s his birthday in two weeks time. Stiles couldn’t really blame him. 

But then he thinks, Cora and Peter. Surely, Derek’s family would remember. And hey, they’re sort of on good terms right now, so maybe they could all get together and do a thing? 

He’s making plans in his head before he remembers that hey, he should probably ask everyone else if they already have plans made. He pulls out his phone to start texting, realizes how late it’s gotten, and decides to rain check it. No need to be waking people up in the middle of the night planning Derek Hale’s birthday.

That would just be silly. 

***

“So, what’s everyone getting up to for Derek’s birthday?” The question is directed at Isaac, but both Isaac and Scott look up at Stiles like he’s nuts. 

“Derek’s birthday?” Isaac says, like the words are foreign. 

Stiles nods. “Yeah, it’s in like two weeks.” 

Isaac raises his eyebrows, looks at Scott. Scott makes a face. “Are you sure?” Scott asks.

“What, really?” Stiles wonders, crossing his arms. “There’s no big plan to throw Derek a surprise party?” 

“I didn’t even know it was his birthday,” Isaac admits, and his eyes narrow, and he goes back to what he was doing. 

“But, Peter and Cora know, right?” Stiles asks. Scott gives him the cease and desist look, because Isaac is a fragile creature that Scott feels responsible for, but Stiles ignores him. “They have to know, yeah?”

Isaac shrugs. “They didn’t say anything about it to me.” 

“Huh,” Stiles says, for lack of anything to add. 

He wonders, briefly, if Derek is one of those people with an abnormal hatred for birthdays, but then he thinks there’s only one way to find out. 

***

Okay, so, no one is even sort of interested in having a birthday party for Derek. Scott and Isaac had just given him obnoxious raised eyebrows, Boyd had answered his text with ‘Why are you talking to me?’ and Lydia’s only helpful advice had been to invite the cross dressers if they did have one. 

Which leaves, really, only Cora and Peter. 

He can’t text Cora, seeing as they hate each other. It’s a strange, sassy, antagonistic relationship they share, and Stiles isn’t about to invite baby Hale to ridicule him. Which only leaves Peter, and. Well. Stiles doesn’t think a party that just involves him, Derek and Peter is going to be much fun. Someone would probably get maimed. Or killed. Worse, maybe. 

Which means that a party, in the strictest sense is pretty much out. Stiles tries to dismiss the idea of Derek’s birthday completely from his mind. If the guy doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, if he’s purposefully not telling anyone or doing anything, then who is Stiles to intrude? 

Only the thought keeps nagging him in the back of his mind that maybe Derek doesn’t have anyone to do anything for him, what with his fucked up family and disloyal pack. Maybe the reason he isn’t making a big deal out of it is that he thinks no one cares. Maybe he’s ignoring his birthday because he thinks he _doesn’t deserve_ to have one. And that just… ow. 

It pulls at him, nags at him, and finally he realizes that the guilt he’ll feel over not doing anything for Derek’s birthday outweighs the possible embarrassment of doing something. 

“God,” Stiles says, scrubbing his hands over his face and hair as he makes this realization, “What am I so nice? What’s the matter with me?” 

***

It doesn’t have to be anything big. 

He aims for small and meaningful, which is how he finds himself researching cake recipes on the internet. This of course leads him to another problem, which is what flavor of cake is appropriate for an alpha werewolf acquaintance. 

Googling that gets him nothing. 

He takes a chance, and texts Peter, of all people, having already reminded himself that he has no one else to ask. 

‘What kind of cake does Derek like?’ He texts, and hits send before he can change his mind. 

To his surprise, Peter doesn’t dick him around. ‘Red Velvet,’ Peter’s text reads. Then a few moments later, ‘Don’t abuse this information, Stilinski’. 

***

Derek’s birthday is on a Thursday, which means Stiles can get away with skiving off class early on Wednesday to come home and bake while his dad is at work. Otherwise he’d have to make them over the weekend, and he wants them to be fresh because he knows what finicky eaters werewolves are. 

He gets the recipe off the internet, makes everything from scratch. They, surprisingly, have almost all the ingredients, and smelling the cupcakes baking reminds him of when he was young, and he and his mother would spend Saturday mornings filling the house up with delicious smells and a week’s worth of food. 

He opts for cupcakes because they’re pre-portioned, and also so that he can try a few as he goes to make sure they taste okay. It’s important to check for quality, he tells himself as he stuffs his third delicious cupcake in his mouth. 

When he has them all finished, he realizes waiting through Thursday to present them is going to be hell. 

***

He spends most of Thursday at school imagining Derek’s surprise when he shows him the cupcakes. It’s not healthy, he knows, but somehow it’s far more interesting than watching the alpha twins or plotting with Scott or doing substitute chemistry work. 

He imagines Derek getting a big old smile on his face, reaching out for a hug, even. “Oh, Stiles,” Derek says in his daydreams, “You’re so great. I don’t appreciate you enough.” 

It’s stupid and unrealistic, Stiles knows, but it makes him smile like an idiot all the way through economics. 

By the time Thursday night rolls around, Stiles almost chickens out. He thinks about loading up his car and driving over to the loft, but then he wonders if Derek is even there. And, he thinks, if this goes badly, Derek won’t want to embarrass him in from of Cora, and Cora, well… Cora is Cora, and Stiles doesn’t exactly think she deserves any of his delicious cupcakes with the way she treats him. 

So he opts instead for setting the cupcakes up in his room and telling Derek to come see him. 

‘Hey,’ Stiles texts Derek when he has the cupcakes all set up, ‘I need you to come over here.’

He doesn’t get a response, so he sits in his chair and waits, clicking through things on the internet, laughing at funny cats, and then his window is thrown open and Stiles lets out a squawk and jumps up. 

“What is it?” Derek asks as he climbs through Stiles’ window, and… he sounds a little breathless? 

“Uh,” Stiles stammers, collecting himself. Derek looks impatient, and he’s glaring around the room like he’d expected Deucalion to be here, holding Stiles hostage. Which, did he? Maybe, Stiles thinks amusedly, and then he tries to placate the angry alpha staring at him. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean like, rush over in a life or death situation sense,” he says, gesturing with his hands in what he hopes is a calming manner, “Sorry, should have made that clearer.” 

Derek lets out a long, slow breath, the kind he usually does when he’s trying not to show how much he wants to kill Stiles. Then he sets his jaw and looks at him like, ‘well?’

Stiles flinches, reaches over to the desk and pulls the lid off the cupcake holder with as much of a flourish as he can manage. He pulls the little plastic lighter from his pocket and lights the one candle on the top of the highest cupcake, and then waves his hands around and says, “Ta da!” 

Derek’s face falls as he stares at the cupcakes. It goes from confused, to annoyed, to just plain sad. He glances over at Stiles like he’s waiting for clarification. 

“Happy Birthday!” Stiles says, realizing how quickly this is going downhill. “It’s, I mean,” he hesitates at the shattered look on Derek’s face, “Your birthday is on your police report.” 

Derek looks between Stiles and the cupcakes two more times before he opens his mouth uncertainly and says, “You made me cupcakes?” 

“Cake is a popular birthday celebration food,” Stiles supplies, smirking a little at the alpha to try and alleviate the tension, “Though you being raised by wolves I can forgive you not immediately understanding and telling me what a great friend I am for not only remembering your birthday but making you Red Velvet cupcakes, from scratch, I might add, and let me just say they are delicious.”

Derek looks over at him again, and this time he looks amused. There’s a weird crook in his mouth and his eyebrows are raised just slightly, which, yeah, Stiles thinks, amused but still uncertain. 

“I had to taste test,” Stiles adds in the quiet, “You know, quality assurance.” 

Derek has completely deflated. His arms are by his sides, his hands are loose, and his face looks like he’s just been beaten over the head with a brick. He looks almost wounded, and he’s just staring at the cupcakes like they hold the answers to the universe, and Stiles is starting to think he made a huge mistake. 

“Dude,” Stiles says, dropping his own hands and letting the cupcake cover fall to his side, “Say something, you’re freaking me out,” he demands. Then something occurs to Stiles and he panics. “Oh god,” Stiles says, slamming a hand up to his face, “You didn’t lie about your birth date when you got arrested, did you? Because that is totally something you would do and that makes me look like such an idiot-”

“Stiles,” Derek says, holding up a hand to wave Stiles’ concerns off. “I didn’t lie. It is my birthday.” 

“Oh,” Stiles nods, relaxing. “Good.” 

The candle Stiles lit is melting all over the cupcake, and it’s almost down to the frosting. 

“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Stiles adds uncertainly. He isn’t sure what he’d realistically expected from the somber, broody older man, but total devastation that someone might remember about or even care about his birthday wasn’t it. 

Derek sighs. He looks back at Stiles. “We’ve got a Durach trying to sacrifice people, an alpha pack terrorizing Beacon Hills, people are dying left and right, my pack is a mess, and you want me to blow out my birthday candle and make a wish?” His tone is skeptical and his eyebrows are riding up into his hairline, but something in Derek’s face still reads ‘absolutely heartbroken’. 

_Well, when you put it like that_ , Stiles thinks, but he decides to take the brave way instead. “Yes,” he answers Derek, picking up his arms and putting them on his hips, “Yes, that is exactly what I expect you to do.” 

Derek stares, and the candle has melted all the way down to the frosting and fizzles out in the silence between them, leaving a long, thin trail of smoke going up from the flickering wick. 

Derek’s face goes back to neutral, and then he glares at the candle that has officially blown itself out. And now, god, Stiles thinks helplessly, now Derek looks more hurt than before. “Sorry,” Derek says, his voice quiet, “I didn’t,” and he stumbles, Derek Hale stumbles over his words, “Sorry I wasted it.” 

Stiles makes a show of rolling his eyes. “I have more candles you know,” he says happily, pulling out the little box from his back pocket. “It is not the end of the world.” 

“Why did you make me cupcakes?” Derek asks, still staring at them. 

“ _Because it’s your birthday_ ,” Stiles patronizes him, speaks slowly and clearly, knows there’s no better way to get a rise out of him. “Are you serious right now?”

Derek glares at him. “You know what I meant.” 

“No, actually, I don’t,” Stiles argues, glaring back and waving his arms around menacingly. “Why did I make you cupcakes? Because it’s your birthday and no one else seemed to know and I don’t care about your reasons for keeping it to yourself, everyone deserves cake on their birthday, even you Mr. I-Can’t-Have-Nice-Things.” 

Derek raises his eyebrows at the title, but he doesn’t object. Instead he just gestures helplessly to the large stack of cupcakes. “What am I supposed to do with them?” 

Stiles sucks in a breath, reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Eat them, Derek, you eat them,” he says quickly, and when Derek looks like he’s about to throw out another ‘you know what I meant’, Stiles continues, “I don’t know, they’re cupcakes, you share them with your friends, go pass them out to your little werewolf lackeys as peace offerings, threaten Peter with them, I don’t care,” he continues, and he can’t help it, he’s starting to get a little frustrated. “It’s cake Derek, cake, it’s not hard to give away if you don’t want it.” 

Derek’s head snaps up. “I didn’t,” he hesitates again, crosses his arms. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” he adds, and Stiles scoffs. “It’s just,” Derek’s face softens and he glances down at the floor, “I almost forgot myself. Without Laura here to lambast me for three weeks beforehand… my birthday didn’t seem important.” 

And shit, Stiles thinks, he hadn’t even considered that. The last birthday Derek had was probably spent in his apartment in New York with his older sister, happy and carefree… compared to now. 

Derek lets out a self-deprecating sigh, looks up at him with as honest a look as Stiles has ever seen on his face. 

“No, yeah,” Stiles feels the pit of his stomach give out, shuffles his feet and picks up the cupcake cover, “Never mind, this was a bad idea, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-” and he goes to cover them back up, wondering how in the world he’s going to get out of this situation now, when Derek reaches out and grabs his wrist. 

“No,” Derek says, and he lets go of Stiles wrist instantly and gestures to the cupcakes, “They look good. I- Thank you.” 

Stiles gives him a little nod, and then they stand there awkwardly for a moment. 

Then Derek asks shyly, “Can I have one?” 

Stiles let’s himself grin, pulls one of the cupcakes without wax melted all over it out and hands it to him. “They’re yours, Derek, you can scarf them all if you want.” 

Derek actually smirks as he takes the cupcake out of Stiles hand. “Careful,” he warns, “I don’t think that would be a pretty sight.” 

Stiles laughs, sets the cupcake lid down next to the cupcake carrier and leans against his desk as he watches Derek peal the white paper off the cupcake and then raise it to his lips. He takes a dainty little bit of the side, just enough to taste and get the cream cheese frosting smeared across his upper lip, and Stiles has to press his lips into a thin line to keep from laughing or making a joke. 

Derek tilts his head, makes a little noise of approval, and then he looks back over at Stiles. He reaches out with the hand still holding the scrunched up wrapper, and pulls another cupcake from the rack. Stiles is about to tell him to slow down when Derek indicates the cupcake in Stiles direction. 

Stiles takes it, and looks up at Derek questioningly. “You sure?” He asks, “Because I’ll be honest I had like a dozen of these while I was making them.” 

Derek smirks, and then he shrugs. “You said to share them with my friends,” he says simply, and then he goes over and takes a seat on the edge of Stiles’ bed and proceeds to take a hulking bite out of the cupcake in his hand, and then he hunches a little as he chews like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

Stiles just stares at him, mouth agape, for a long moment, before he finally gets his rear in gear and joins Derek on the bed, peeling off the wrapper to his cupcake. He hesitates as he watches Derek shove more of his own cupcake into his mouth, and then he goes for it anyway. 

“Wanna see a trick?” He asks as he holds out his cupcake. Derek glances over, and Stiles feels like he’s in ninth grade all over again, trying to impress the cool upperclassmen as he pulls apart the bottom of his cupcake and sticks it on top. “Cupcake sandwich.” 

Derek actually nods his head like he’s impressed, and when he goes back to the desk for another cupcake, he makes it into a sandwich before taking a bite out of it. Stiles grins, and they sit in amiable silence as they eat their cupcakes. 

When Derek goes back for a third, Stiles hops up and shakes his box of candles. “I draw the line,” Stiles says, pulling out a candle and sticking it in the cupcake in Derek’s hand, “You can’t have birthday cupcakes without birthday wishes.” 

“Promise you won’t sing,” Derek says as Stiles reaches out with the lighter to light the cupcake, and Stiles lets out a snort. 

He backs away slightly when the candle is lit, but then Derek just stares at it again. “Derek,” Stiles warns, and Derek just looks at him helplessly. 

“I don’t even know what to wish for,” he admits, shaking his head. “After the fire, I spent three years wishing on every birthday, Christmas and shooting star that it would all be a dream I’d wake up from the next day. Then I just started wishing that my family would forgive me. Now…” Derek hesitates, and Stiles wonders what his face must look like because this is probably the most honest thing Derek’s ever told him and he says it so casually, like he thinks about it all the time, and Stiles’ chest feels tight as he watches. “I could wish not to screw up again,” Derek says, his eyebrows frowning, “But I doubt that would come true.” 

Stiles stares at the candle, thinking. “I’d go with something simple,” he advises, trying to keep his voice calm, “Like ‘may my car not need maintenance for 30,000 miles’ or ‘may Stiles not get kidnapped next Tuesday’,” he jokes, and the corner of Derek’s lip turns up, “Stuff that you know you can have.” 

Derek grins, and then he blows out the candle. “World peace it is, then,” he says, and he pulls the candle out of the cupcake, tosses it down on the desk, and smashes the cupcake into Stiles face. 

Stiles baulks, brings his hands up to catch the crumbling bits of cupcake, that are falling into his carpet, feels the thick frosting smear right into his nose. “You!” Stiles yelps, but Derek is laughing at him, actually chortling, and his chest is shaking and he just looks so damn happy. “You are just a big kid!” Stiles accuses, and he reaches out with what’s left of the cupcake in his hands and tries to shove it down Derek’s shirt. 

He mostly succeeds, and by the end of it they’re sitting on the floor next to Stiles’ bed, picking cupcake crumbs out of the carpet and shoving each other in the shoulders. 

Stiles gets it. He gets that this is a moment he needs to appreciate. Moments where they spend time together at all outside of being forced together under supernatural conditions are rare, so Stiles just dumps the crumbs into the waste basket and stares at his newly red carpet. He shoots Derek a sidelong glance, wonders if maybe he should say something profound. 

“My carpet will never be the same,” is what leaves Stiles mouth, “But at least you didn’t spend your birthday alone and cake-less.” 

Derek is looking at him, he can feel it, and he raises his eyebrows as he turns his head just enough to catch his look. It’s a classic Derek look, one of his most favored ‘Stiles is an idiot’ looks, but Stiles just grins, because he feels like he’s done the right thing, and no amount of sass from Derek is going to change his mind. As Stiles keeps grinning at him, Derek’s look softens, until he looks almost… fond. 

Derek reaches up and takes his hand to Stiles’ face. “I don’t know if you’re aware,” he says, as Stiles tries to pretend he’s not holding his breath, “But you have frosting all over your cheek.” 

Stiles manages to keep calm as he says, “And up my nose, thanks very much.” 

Derek half smiles, and he takes his fingers and wipes a bit of frosting off Stiles’ face and sticks them in his mouth. 

There’s no way to pretend that isn’t ridiculously hot, and Stiles thinks Derek knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s a werewolf, for Christ’s sake, he can tell when Stiles’ heart skips and sometimes Stiles thinks he gets off on it. He’s not mocking him, exactly, Stiles knows, because he’s been going along with Stiles’ more and more ridiculous jokes as they’ve gotten to know each other better. There are moments, little tiny moments, where Stiles actually thinks Derek enjoys messing with him as much as Stiles does. 

Like right now, as Derek just shoots him a confident look once he’s licked his fingers clean of frosting. 

Stiles is not one for the high road. “Yeah, okay,” he says exasperatedly, reaching up to wipe frosting off his own face and then reaching out for Derek, “That’s enough of that!” 

Derek catches his wrist, hauls Stiles around like he isn’t even trying, and Stiles fights, he really does, to get the frosting on his hand to Derek’s face, but Derek has his hand so far away from them both that all Stiles can think to do to win is to rub his face all over Derek’s. 

Derek obviously isn’t expecting it, because he stills when Stiles does it and shuts his eyes tight, as though he really should have seen that coming. And, to be fair, Stiles is a genius, but he should have. 

Derek sighs as Stiles pulls away, let’s go of Stiles’ hand and Stiles drops his frosting smeared face back against the bed behind them with a laugh. Derek turns his head to glare at Stiles, but their faces are so close that he just looks cross eyed. Stiles giggles, can’t help himself, but then Derek shuts his eyes and presses forward, and their lips brush. 

Stiles freezes, save for his hand twitching where it rests on Derek’s leg. It’s over very quickly, and then Derek is looking away, looking forward, and Stiles is left staring at the cream cheese frosting that is all over Derek’s face. He isn’t sure what to do, so he just stays still, rests his chin on Derek’s shoulder and enjoys the silence. 

“Stiles?” Derek says after some time, and Stiles makes a little noise to let him know he’s still there. “Thanks.”

“Happy Birthday Derek,” Stiles agrees, and he leans his head in against Derek’s cheek. 

Derek catches his hand, the one that still has frosting on the fingers, and he intertwines them anyway. 

Stiles squishes the frosting, and they both laugh.


End file.
